


Beethoven

by soulofme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied Relationships, M/M, POV Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Piano, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 04:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4086895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi is a social outcast who secretly plays piano and Eren is a troublemaker who only likes being hall monitor for one reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beethoven

The thing I like about the music room is that it's quiet. Ever since funding for the music program got cut, nobody really comes down here. Unless they're in the less than impressive concert band, but they only use the room during ninth period.

As usual, I throw my book bag onto one of the many empty chairs and look around the room. Informational posters about tone and rhythm are still clinging to the white walls. The large row of windows allow the natural light from outside to flood the room. I walk over to the light switch and attempt to flick the lights on. When nothing happens, I press my lips into a firm line. Of  _course_ it hadn't gotten fixed.

I make sure the door is locked before I roll up my sleeves and get to work. It's fifth period, which for most of my classmates means study hall. But instead of going to the library, I hole myself up in the music room and play piano.

I guess you can say it's sort of a secret of mine. People hate my guts. I don't know why, and I never bothered to ask. It's just something I've learned to accept. So I drew away from my classmates. I don't really talk to people unless it's necessary. It works out in my favor. If people knew I played piano, they'd probably say even more things about me.

I seat myself in front of the piano, admiring the sleek black gloss that seems to reflect the soft light from outside. My fingers hesitantly press against the keys. Before I know it, my hands are gliding along effortlessly. I don't really pay attention to what I'm playing. Instead, I focus on the feeling of the cool keys against my fingers.

"...Whoa."

I nearly have a heart attack right then and there. I turn my head sharply, watching as the figure looming in the doorway shifts their weight.

"That...whoa," he shakes his head and steps further in.

I stand up instantly.

"Why are you here? Nobody ever comes down here."

The boy scoffs at that, looking at me with raised eyebrows.

"What, do you own this place now?"

The first thing I notice is that he's got messy, brown hair. The second is that his eyes are a shocking turquoise color, and I wonder why I hadn't noticed them first.

"No," I say slowly. I furrow my eyebrows. "You gonna answer the question?"

"Depends," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "You gonna answer mine?"

"You haven't asked one," I say. He shrugs and uncrosses his arms, crossing the room in a few seconds.

"Why're you cutting class?" he asks.

"Why do you care?"

He holds up a laminated card for me to see. Great. He's one of those damn hall monitors. Kids who get put in in school suspension can get out early if they monitor the halls. Of course no one takes them seriously, but if they get to shave a few hours off of their "death sentence" I guess it's alright.

"So again," the boy tucks the card back into his pocket. "Why are you cutting class?"

"I'm not," I sit back onto the piano bench. "I have fifth period study hall."

"I see," he hums thoughtfully.

"I thought, uh, I thought the door was locked," I say, rubbing the back of my neck. He looks down at me with a tiny smirk before reaching into his pocket again, producing a set of keys.

"Sorry," he says, though he doesn't sound apologetic.

"Right," I say. "So, if you're done questioning me, I'm going to..."

I trail off and gesture towards the piano. His eyes widen.

"Oh yeah," he bites his lower lip, and I find myself looking away quickly. "Can I...?"

"Play?" I finish. "If you want-"

"I don't play piano," he interrupts, laughing nervously. "I...um...I wanted to watch you."

"Oh," I say intelligently.

"I've heard you play before," he says quickly, and I almost miss it. It takes me a few seconds to register what he had said, and when I do I feel my face growing warm.

"You have?" I ask.

"Yeah," he bites his lips again. "Um..."

"What?"

"I can't believe I'm going to admit to this," he begins, looking everywhere but at me. "But, uh, sometimes I get in trouble just so that I can monitor the halls. Because...because then I have a reason to be here."

"Are you serious right now?" I mutter in amazement. The boy looks at the chalkboard at the front of the room.

"I mean..." he clears his throat. "Nothing. I don't know what I meant."

"That's..."

"Creepy?"

"Nice," I correct. The poor guy looks like he's beating himself up. I know I can be an asshole, but I'm capable of being nice when I want to be. 

"Nice?" he says incredulously. "Did you not hear what I said? I've basically been stalking you for god knows how long."

"I heard you," I shrug. "Doesn't bother me. We haven't interacted before now. I can't be mad at you for much. You were just watching. If you were saying shit, that would be a different story."

"I guess," he mumbles.

"So...yeah."

"Huh?"

"You can watch if you want," I clarify.

"Really?" the boy asks. "You're not weirded out?"

"I'm more flattered than anything," I admit. "I don't mind. Seriously. It's...nice."

And so somehow, the boy ends up sitting on one of the blue plastic chairs behind me. I play like usual, able to ignore the feeling of eyes staring through my back. When I turn to look at him, his eyes are closed. His position in the chair is so relaxed that he's basically slouched over. I nearly snort at the sight. I put him to sleep... _literally_.

I stand up and walk over to him slowly. I take my sweater off and drape it over his body before grabbing my book bag. Once I'm about to leave the room, I notice his eyes are watching me.

"Thanks," he whispers.

I nod, the lump in my throat preventing me from speaking.

* * *

The boy comes around more often than not. Sometimes it's because he's hall monitor, other times it's because he cut class. A part of me wonders if I should feel creeped out, but all I feel is endearment for him. No one besides my parents and sister gives me this much attention, and I guess I'm enjoying it...even if it comes from a boy I barely know.

"That song..." the boy says softly. His voice interrupts my playing, and I stop abruptly.

"Huh?"

"The song you were playing," he sits up straighter in his usual seat. "I've never heard it before."

I rub the back of my neck self-consciously.

"Was it bad?" I ask.

"No," he shakes his head wildly. "It was amazing. Like everything else you play."

We both turn a little pink at that, him more so than me.

"Thanks," I say. I'm not really used to compliments. "I wrote it a little while ago."

The boy's eyes look like they're going to pop out of their sockets.

"You  _wrote_ it?"

"Yeah," I say. "I...I write everything I play."

"That's so cool," he says, sounding a little breathless. "I mean obviously you're good, but to be  _that_ good is so..."

He trails off, clearly at a loss for words. I'm unsure of how to reply.

"Thank you," I say again, a little stiffly. 

"No problem," he smiles softly at me, and I almost smile back.

* * *

"Beethoven."

"What?" I ask. The boy grins at me.

"That's my name for you," he says.

"Beethoven?" I scoff. "I don't even play Beethoven."

"You could if you wanted to," he says. "You both compose stuff...and he's the only one I remembered from fifth grade music class."

I snort at that and turn towards him.

"I'm guessing you're not a music guy," I say.

"Not really," he admits. He looks at me almost shyly. "It's different when it comes to you, though."

"How so?" I ask curiously. He shrugs. 

"Dunno. It just is."

I don't know what to say. I watch him for a few seconds before he looks away at the chalkboard.

"Aren't you worried about your reputation?" I ask him. He had to be. If people knew he was hanging out with Levi, king of losers, he'd probably cry. Hanging out with me was like committing social suicide.

"No," he blinks. "Should I be?"

"You're kidding, right?" I scoff. "You know what I mean. You know who I am, right?"

"I don't," he says honestly. "And if I knew who you were, I wouldn't be calling you Beethoven."

...Well, that's true.

"Are you new or something?" I ask. "I'm pretty sure everyone knows who I am."

"I see you've got some head weight there," he smirks.

"No, just a ton of people who hate my guts."

"I don't hate your guts," he says with a frown.

"You're the first," I say.

The boy furrows his eyebrows.

"I don't care who you are," he says. "I just care about this."

He motions between us and the piano. I purse my lips and watch him for a few moments, ignoring the silence that's pressing in around us.

"Who are you, then?"

"What do you mean?" he asks.

"Well you have a name, right?" I say. "You should tell me. I'm kinda tired of calling you  _the boy_ in my head."

He laughs softly, and I decide that it's a nice sound.

"Eren," he says. "My name's Eren."

"Beethoven and Eren," I nod approvingly. "I'd say they sound nice together."

The boy- no,  _Eren-_ smiles softly.

* * *

"Hey, Beethoven?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I have a crush on you."

Eren's confession makes me stop just as I'm about to start playing. My fingers hover awkwardly over the piano keys. My breath escapes my nose in a quick, sharp gush of air. I turn to face Eren slowly, noting his flushed cheeks and fidgeting.

"Sorry," he says.

"You don't have a crush on me," I say, and begin to play. Eren makes an indignant sound from behind me.

"How would you know?" he demands.

"You barely know me," I sigh.

"I've been hanging around you for three months."

"You only know that superficial shit. Like favorite color and food and whatever. You don't even know my real name."

"You never told me," he says.

"You never asked," I counter. "Trust me, Eren. If you knew who I was, you wouldn't be sitting there."

"You're assuming that," he says. "You don't know that for sure."

"I tend to be right about most things," I reply. I know I'm being harsh, but I can't stop my mouth from opening. "Just ask around. People will talk."

"I don't want to hear it from other people!"

Eren stands up so suddenly that his chair falls back against the risers. His chest is heaving as he stares at me angrily. 

"Calm down," Eren's eyebrows pinch together, and he probably thinks I'm talking to him. Unknown to him, I'm actually speaking to myself.

"I want to hear it from you," he says. "...I want you to tell me who you are."

I don't know why I'm angry. I shouldn't be. I have no reason to be.

"Fine," I seethe. I turn around on the bench and stare him down. "My parents got divorced when I was eight. I live with my twenty year old sister and her three cats. I'm an asshole and everyone hates me because I hate them. I play piano because it's the only thing I was ever good at. And...and I'm not fucking  _gay_."

It's a lie. That last part, I mean. I don't know why I say it. Maybe it's just the vindictive part of me. I don't know why seeing the hurt look that flashes over Eren's eyes gives me this rush of  _something_ , but it does. There's something wrong with me for that. I find it easier to hurt the people who care about me than to stand up to the people who couldn't be bothered to give two shits.

"Fuck you," Eren says, and before I can even blink he's out of the room.

When I go to bed, I dream of a boy with expressive turquoise eyes.

* * *

The weeks drag on. The end of the school year approaches rapidly. I'm a senior, and by August I'm going to find myself in a college dorm miles away from home.

The thought sickens me, and I find myself spending more time in the music room than I should. A part of my head tells me that I'm in here to keep my stress levels down, but the smarter part of my head informs me that I'm just waiting for something.

And, even though I refuse to admit it, I know what that something is.

That  _something_  arrives in my sweater and a scowl. He looks paler than I remember, and he drops himself heavily onto one of the plastic chairs. I watch him carefully.

"Eren?" I blink rapidly at him.

"Beethoven," he says crisply.

"You came," I finally say. "And...you still have my sweater."

I don't care that he does. Hell, I forgot that I had even given it to him.

"I came to apologize," he says.

"For...?"

"You know what for," Eren says, and it's the first time I've ever heard him be annoyed at me. "I was being stupid. You were right. I don't have a crush on you."

Something in my chest tightens.

"I wasn't right," I say. "I don't know what you're feeling. No one can tell you what you're feeling except you."

"You did, though. And you sounded so sure of yourself."

"I was being an asshole," I reply.

"You got that right," Eren mutters. He bites his lower lip before looking up at me slowly. "...I lied. I still have a crush on you."

I chuckle softly, surprising us both.

"I know."

Eren shifts in his seat.

"And...I knew who you were all along."

"What?" I say. I don't know why I'm so surprised. From the beginning, I thought it was weird that Eren had no idea who I was. I found it hard to believe he never heard the taunting remarks thrown my way or the dirty looks that were given to me as I walked from class to class.

"I'm sorry," Eren exhales softly. "I just...I wanted you to trust me. I wanted you to know that I really liked you."

"So you played dumb and hoped for the best?"

"Why do you have to say it like that?" Eren complains, scrunching his lips up. I shrug and lean back a little, no longer feeling as tense as I had when he had first walked into the music room.

"Thank you," I say.

He tilts his head to the side.

"For what?"

I shrug.

"For being here. It's..."

"Nice?" he finishes with a laugh.

"Nice," I agree. "So, what do you want to hear today?"

Eren thinks for a few moments.

"Play the song from the first day we met."

I nod and poise my fingers over the keys. Something feels like it's missing.

"...Sit next to me."

I hear Eren's sharp intake of breath. His foosteps fill the room until he stops at the bench and sits down next to me. Our thighs bump together, and when I look at his face he's biting his lower lip again.

I play for him, keeping my eyes on him the entire time. He looks down at his feet, his hands folded loosely on his lap. When I finally play the last note, he looks at me with an unreadable expression.

"Levi?"

I like the way he says my name. It's filled with admiration and affection, and it causes this warm feeling to wash all over my body. 

"Yeah?"

"I really like you," he says in a rush, and his cheeks are flaming red. I laugh and don't respond. 

When we're leaving the room, I link our pinkies together.


End file.
